


a home

by emma_cellist



Series: love in unexpected places - a one-shot series [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Comfort, Family, Fluff, Gen, Parental Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 17:05:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12775527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emma_cellist/pseuds/emma_cellist
Summary: Harry finds a home with Mrs Weasley and her children.





	a home

You could remember the first time Mrs Weasley hugged you. Merlin, you couldn’t forget it if you tried. It was the first time you met her - you were scrawny, underfed, and there were bruises purpling your arm from Uncle Vernon grabbing you last night, after the lights had flickered when he yelled at you. They’d thought it was your magic. Vernon’d growled at you, hot breath in your ear, that _next time you used your freak powers, he’d beat the goddamn freakiness out of you_.Aunt Petunia had stood by the doorframe, thin arms crossed, watching as your eyes went glassy, as you tried to dissociate in a futile effort of self-preservation. She didn’t seem to enjoy your pain as much as your uncle, but she did nothing to stop him, and that was just as bad in your eyes. 

Mrs Weasley had looked you up and down as you stood there, shivering in your oversized sleep shirt that you hadn’t had time to change out of before you clambered out the window into the flying car. Her eyes had come to rest on the marks on your forearm, and understanding had softened her face. She looked up at you, eyes welling, and before you knew it you were in her arms, smelling cinnamon and soap and feeling warmer than you ever had before. She was so gentle, and so soft, and you suddenly had a lump in your throat bigger than a Snitch. “Harry,” she’d said, “Welcome to the Burrow. Welcome home.” 

You’d spent the next few days settling in, marvelling at even the mundanities of family life; laughing at Ginny’s antics with Ron; orchestrating elaborate pranks with the twins; helping Mrs Weasley with her cooking. And all through it, you carried those words with you; a warmth flooding your veins and residing just below the skin: welcome home. You didn’t mind that the Burrow was small, or cluttered, or noisy. It was warm, and so, so full of life that some days you had to step outside to catch your breath. The love that flooded the house was almost tangible; a sweet scent that permeated the air if you concentrated hard enough. And the Weasleys treated you like family, like a brother and a son. Mr Weasley had even called you that: son, he’d said, I’m so glad to finally meet you. 

On the bad days, the days when you woke up crying because you could swear you almost saw your mother in your dream, the days when loud noises made you jump, when Vernon seemed just around the corner with his belt in his hand, days when even breathing felt like an effort, Mrs Weasley seemed to know. She’d come up to your orange, orange room and shoo Ron out, and she’d place a mug of tea beside you (three sugars and a dash of milk, just the way you liked it). She’d sit beside you, without a word, and she’d stroke your hair and hold you like you’d never been held before. Sometimes you’d talk, and sometimes you wouldn’t; it didn’t matter to her. She’d brush the tears from your eyes as they fell, and soon enough, the lump in your throat would disappear, and you’d offer her a puffy eyed smile. She’d smile back, her eyes crinkling, and she’d kiss the top of your head. “You are loved, Harry,” she’d say. “Say it to me. You are loved.” And you’d dutifully repeat her words, rolling your eyes, but inside, you were smiling the world’s biggest smile, cheeks almost cracking with the effort. No-one had ever told you that before.

Eventually, of course, someone would call, “Mu-um,” from downstairs, and Mrs Weasley would get up from where she was settled beside you with creaky knees, and she’d pat your leg. “I’m here, lamb. I’m always here.” On her way out, she’d turn and look back at you, giving you a little smile. Then she’d turn, and walk out, and you’d be left glowing from the inside out with her love.


End file.
